


Sunspot

by Bhelryss



Series: ylisseweek2018 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, and. added sexy, prompt: sun, ylisseweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-03-05 07:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13383006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: Ylisseweek, Day 2: SunAversa goes looking for a normal life and falls in with Flavia. Perhaps that isn't normal, but her life with the East Khan is brighter than she'd ever thought it could be.





	1. Chapter 1

Aversa left Chrom’s company with the intent to return to her former village and live out a normal life. Catch up on all the things she’d missed out on, following the will of the church of Grima and Validar too. Like… well… she wasn’t sure, exactly, but she was positive that she would know it when she saw it. Only, when she’d arrived, she stood in a town square that was smaller than she ever could have dreamed. And she looked out into the sea of strangers and felt so out of place, that she felt as if she were suffocating from a pressure on her chest.

So she hoisted her bag of belongings a little higher on her shoulder, remounted her dark steed, and continued to fly north until the snow began falling. Past the longfort, and paused in the middle of nowhere, at a bend in a lazy river. What had been snow in the sky was rain on the ground, and Aversa quickly found that letting her hair free, while warmer than hiding it under her skullcap, allowed it to adhere wetly to her skin. Once safe under her mount’s wing, she wrung out her hair and allowed a moment of self-pity.

Just a moment though. She hated feeling pathetic. 

Circe’s feathers tickled her forehead, and the cold wind and colder rain making her shiver, Aversa wondered if she might not be better off turning back south. Where maybe she could make her new life in a dusty outpost of a Plegian town, and maybe everyone could see through her, to her past as Validar’s most loyal hand, but at least she would be warm. But no...she wanted to leave that behind her, leave all of it behind her. She wasn’t turning back.

Aversa kept her eyes trained northwards, and could practically taste the freedom that awaited. 

The temperatures dropped as she continued northward, yet to find a place that spoke to the part of her looking for somewhere to belong. She only tried to sleep in the open once, before deciding she loved herself too much to put up with that level of cold and varying degrees of wet or freezing, and spurred Circe into the flight equivalent of a canter. Aversa vowed then and there that she would sleep in a building, somewhere dry and warm, or she and Circe would not sleep at all.

The first person they spotted in the Feroxi wilderness was an old man who could barely see. She was a bit alarmed that someone was letting their elder loose like that, but he smiled at her like she was a nice girl (and Aversa was fairly convinced that was an impossibility now. No one could be a nice girl and do the things that she’d done), and directed her to the northeast. “There’s a good inn there, young missy.” He said, patting her hand like she was his grandchild. “You and your lovely horse will be warm there. But hurry up! There’s a snowstorm coming. Can feel it in my knees.”

Circe snorted, but Aversa watched the old man hobble onward with an odd feeling wrapped around her sternum, until she rolled her eyes at herself. “Come on then, Circe.” Aversa muttered, tugging at the bridle to turn them both to the northeast. There was a town there, maybe a half day’s ride by the old man’s words. Probably half that by flying...they’d both be warm soon, Aversa thought gladly.

Khan Flavia lived, officially and when she wasn’t in the capitol on business, on a large stretch of land that supported her three horses, a few huntings dogs, and ranged across the open steppe. To the west lay a town that took most of a day’s ride to reach, for resupply, company and drink, any number of things. She liked to sit at the bar with something warm and laugh with her entire body at the poor bastards trying to beat the local card shark at poker. 

There was a snowstorm on its way, all the elders were saying so, and the town was starting the hunkering down process. So Flavia had come to town to get a wagon of feed for her animals and other essentials ready to pull back to her place, and while she’d succeeded in her mission, she wanted a warm drink before she braved the cold evening for the long ride back.

“Anything new in town since my last visit, Carrine?” Flavia asked of the bartender, as the woman behind the bar went ahead and gave her a steaming cup of hard cider, knowing from past experience what the East Khan preferred. “Ready for the bad weather?” And she punctuated that with a hearty gulp of her drink. The warmth spread quickly from her stomach to the tips of her fingers, and Flavia smiled broadly at her old friend.

“Ah, just one new face,” Carrine answered, pouring ale into six large glasses for one of her staff to pass out to one of their tables. “Poor thing, couldn’t stop shivering. She’s holed up in one of the back booths with a glass of my gran’s cider to keep off the cold.” Clicking her tongue, Carrine shook her head. “Don’t know where she’s going to go, the inn’s full up on the folks what can’t make their homes ready for the worst of it.”

“I’ll see to it, Carrine.” Already sliding out of her chair, Flavia made sure to take her cider with her. “The gods know I have plenty of room at my place.” she continued boisterously, easy smile settled on her lips. Nobody needed to freeze when Flavia had room enough to spare, after all. The stranger was easy enough to find; no one else had chosen to sit that far away from the cheer and hubbub of the bar’s center, and Flavia threw herself into the opposite seat with a warrior’s grace without looking the new person in the face.

“Heard you needed a place to weather the storm,” Flavia began, turned so that her back leaned against the wall and her legs stretched out over the rest of the booth’s seat. “I have an extra room with your name on it, if -- Oh, Aversa!” Having finally seen the face of her companion, Flavia saluted with her glass. “Robin was wondering if anyone had seen you. You look cold, girl, drink more of your cider.”

“I’ve been drinking plenty,” Aversa replied coolly, taking a sip anyway. Her cold manner was no doubt undermined by the way she hugged the cup close, as though she could absorb its warmth just by holding it to her skin. “I thank you for the offer, but I’m sure to find other places, you don’t need to strain yourself for  _ wittle _ old me.”

“No need for the bark, Aversa, I simply won’t take no for an answer!” Flavia replied, and every word of it the truth. So Aversa found herself tucked into the wagon seat next to Flavia, while Circe flew overhead, and relatively silent for the majority of the ride, though Flavia seemed keen enough to fill the silence with news of their old comrades. “Basilio’s making talk about the upcoming tournament already, as if I don’t drink him under the table when he gets his mind set to bragging,” Flavia laughed, and a warmer sound Aversa had never heard.

“And then that Robin, ah, she turned me down when I asked if she’d lend her talents to Ferox. Smart girl...too bad. Could have used a brain like that.” Aversa would say she didn’t care, but it was easier to sit next to Flavia, warmed from the cider and kept warm by a borrowed coat and a blanket about her legs, and listen. “I don’t know how long you’ve been out of the loop, but that boy of Basilio’s, Lon’qu, he...”

A testament to the length of Aversa’s journey and not at all to the relative ease Flavia eventually put her at, Aversa dozed for the last dozen miles of their journey, only to wake when the wagon came to a bumpy stop. “Well come on then,” Flavia called, holding out a hand for Aversa to take, to help her down from the wagon. “We’re here.” 

Looking at the house they’d come to, Aversa was a little skeptical of the simple, wood and stone structure in front of her.  _ A Khan lives here? _ she wanted to ask, voice curling disdainfully, thinking of all the wealth the lead Khan must have access to, all the resources a Khan might call upon to build the center of their lives. And what Flavia lived in, what Flavia called her home, was this...glorified hut? She’d seen nicer homes lived in by Ylissean merchants,  _ mere _ merchants. 

“Speechless huh?” Flavia prodded slyly, undoubtedly guessing exactly what Aversa was thinking. Aversa shot her a sideways glance from under her lashes, trying to suss out the ulterior motive behind that statement, but Flavia had already moved on to unloading her wagon. Her stance even, her arms full, Aversa could only imagine what those normally naked shoulders looked like underneath that sweater. 

She ignored that thought, and grabbed nearly as much as Flavia had, though it proved to be admittedly more of a struggle for Aversa than it had seemed for the khan. “Thanks for the hand, Aversa, just put that stuff down outside the door and I’ll show you around.” The snow started up almost as soon as they’d gotten all the supplies into the house, and gotten Circe and Flavia’s wagon horses stabled. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm having to split the last half into more parts because it's turning out to be Massive

It took about two days for the storm to stop, and Aversa soaked in those weak rays of sunlight with a hunger that both surprised her and didn’t. The weather had meant that it was foolish to go outside, and the perceived imprisonment had itched at her no matter Flavia’s hospitality. Towards the end of that two day period, Aversa had taken to hungrily searching the steely skies for hints of sunlight, trying very hard to seem apathetic to the circumstances. But with Flavia still asleep in her room and dawn breaking through the scattered clouds at the horizon, Aversa slipped out to the stables to spend some time with Circe. 

Cooing sweetly to the pegasus, Aversa carefully slid her tack into place and cinched it tight. They were going to fly, taking advantage of the still morning winds and the newness of the world in the aftermath of the storm. The first wing-fed gust that tugged some of her hair from under her hat felt like joy. 

By the time Aversa and Circe had done a couple circuits of the cluster of buildings that made up the majority of living spaces (human or animal-wise), Flavia had obviously woken up. Smoke rose up anew from the chimney, a difference to the trickle that had been wafting gently into the sky when Circe had first launched into the air, and Flavia herself stood out in the snow, a miniature of herself from the altitude at which Aversa laughed at the breeze. 

With only the barest of nudges, Aversa brought Circe back down, hooves leaving prints in the snow and dark feathers beating up a brief whirlwind of white to obscure them. “Want to race?” Aversa asked, heart light and voice teasing, tempting. How well could Flavia ride those horses of hers?

Flavia’s grin and lazy jog towards the stables was all the answer Aversa needed. “Try to keep up,” Aversa taunted, bouncing her head as though to flick her hair from one shoulder to the other. (All of her hair was trapped underneath a scarf and hat combination, so it was largely a pointless gesture, but some wisps of escaping flyaways did move with the motions.)

“Catch me if you can,” Flavia called in return, a loud cry spurring her horse into motion. “Last one to the far-well has to cook breakfast!” Scandalized at Flavia’s head start, Aversa let the competition spur her and Circe into action, heart lifting as Circe gained speed and altitude.

The wind in her face had a cold bite that stung, but Aversa would not be beat. Her vocal calls to Circe to pick up speed were lost to the roar of the wind through Circe’s mane, and Flavia’s laughter drifted back as though a gift. Spirit singing, Aversa leaned close to her pegasus’ neck, and urged Circe onwards.

Stuck behind the stove later, Aversa pouted at Flavia. “You cheated,” she drawled, poking restlessly at the meat sizzling in the pan. Flavia’s answering smile was brighter than the sunlight that drifted through the windows to paint the floors with a weakly yellow overlay. Aversa made a point of looking away from that brightness to the meal coming together under her hands.

“You had the aerial advantage,” Flavia reminded, blowing on her steaming cup with a very obvious sense of peace. “And without rules of engagement, everything is fair.” This startled a laugh out of Aversa, and Flavia’s smile turned smug with achievement. “You were a tactician,” Flavia teased, “you know this to be true.”

Aversa scoffed, and fished two strips of bacon out of the pan. They immediately were set to frame eggs, enthroned on toast, and were served up with a mouthy, “Your Khanship, enjoy.” And Aversa made a point to watch as Flavia took a bite of her victor’s meal, just to see the satisfaction roll across her face. 

“If you cook breakfast every time you lose, I’ll be more than happy to hold a rematch,” Flavia promised, gesturing with her fork, smile bright and sunny and genuine. “I haven’t had such a skillfully made breakfast in ages.” It felt like a tease, and Aversa almost took it for a taunt, personal history lending itself too well to turning politeness and kind words into little needles under the skin. Pretty words with ill meaning and sweet poison to ease the ears into believing only what they hear, and not what could be perceived.

But the smile reached Flavia’s eyes, and the beginning of crow’s feet crinkled around her eyes, suggesting that this was a genuine expression. Body posture lent evidence that this was no hidden barb, and Aversa kept her unease hidden with easy practice. Flavia was too open for Aversa to believe her to be deceitful, so she swallowed down her pricked pride and huffed. Playing offended for the sake of the verbal dance alone, she set aside her pan to soak before cleaning.

“You’ll find me not so easy an opponent next time,” Aversa answered, head held high and the fingers of one hand curling carefully against her bicep as she crossed her arms under her bust. Still, she relented after a moment, and pooled herself into a chair opposite Flavia, and passed the morning in her company.

“I think you should weather the winter with me,” Flavia opened in the evening, balancing food bowls on her arms and in her hands. The baying of hungry hounds in the distance was loud enough to be a distraction from the way Flavia’s words fluttered in Aversa’s stomach, a strange feeling she couldn’t name. “I don’t know where you were heading before, but the weather only gets worse for the next few months.”

She paused, and Aversa took the moment to take bowls from the more precarious perches on Flavia’s bicep and forearm. Her hesitation must have been evident, even for a short moment, because Flavia pushed through that lingering second of stillness to say, “You don’t have to decide now, of course.” A welcome assurance.

Aversa never did decide. She considered and she considered, and she considered while the days flew by and the weather worsened. And then suddenly the snow was too high in front of the door to open it, and the fire in the main room of Flavia’s home burned constantly to paint the walls a flickering orange. That fact is quietly accepted, and thought on with mild confusion and ill ease, but mostly Aversa remained quite comfortable, if at a loss of how to fill her time.

Without other avenues of distraction, Aversa found her capable hands busied with chores she’d picked up as she familiarized herself with Flavia’s day to day. It was old rhythms repurposed to new situations, she thought, as she bent her will to anticipating Flavia’s needs. It became a sort of game Aversa used to pass the time, around the end of the first month of their time together, to see how much of the household management she could accomplish and mark off a mental list of Flavia’s duties on a single day, before Flavia even got to that particular task.

“You know you don’t need to be doing...this,” Flavia said gently, over a dinner Aversa had planned and prepared. It was as extravagant as she could make it, having organized the pantry and the cold storage and having read through years worth of local almanacs to estimate how long it would be until they could make a resupply trip to town. 

“Doing what?” Aversa replied, playing ignorant and unobservant. Was this not a standard for a Khan? Surely, no matter how much Flavia enjoyed her little rustic retreat, which had some charms she would admit to seeing, she missed being treated with import. Did Flavia’s staff not anticipate the needs of their Khan, easing the weight their head of state shouldered? Perhaps that was why she had been so interested in acquiring Robin’s services, a reason why Flavia had no servants in her home. Unused to being treated with due respect and deference, perhaps. There were a number of possibilities, and Aversa did not betray those thoughts with expression.

“Running my household.” Flavia answered, looking not at all fooled by Aversa’s pretense at ignorance. “You’ve arranged all my coats to hand on the rack by color, and rate of use.” And still Aversa held her attentive, but completely innocent expression. “Did you not just finish coordinating a meal plan to go with the way you’ve organized the pantry?”

“And the cold storage.” Aversa corrected. Not about to have her delightfully thorough work discounted just because Flavia hadn’t noticed yet. (Ah, that was certainly one form of flattery, though, wasn’t it? To be so good at anticipating needs that those needs hadn’t even been, well, needed yet?)

“And the cold storage?” Flavia echoed, shaking her head. After a second she chuckled warmly, as though she’d made up her mind to run with it. “Aversa…” They couldn’t quite come to a compromise. Aversa was too bored and too utterly unimpressed with Flavia’s arguments to be willing to budge, and Flavia liked doing things for herself too much to enjoy her guest’s intentionally weaponized-thoughtful, quietly grateful, terrifyingly competent way of taking charge.

On the darkest night of the Feroxi winter, a date Aversa only knew because of her detailed reading of Flavia’s almanacs, typically the town had a festival. Only, this winter the snows were too deep for travel, the roads disappeared under a layer of white that Flavia hesitated to take her horses out into. Flavia spent all of a minute looking a little down before she moved on, practical and thinking of half a dozen other things to do, while Aversa considered.

And considered, eying thoughtfully the arc the sun would take in its descent. She turned from the window with a flourish that sent her loose hair flying out in an arc behind her, off to find the Khan. By now, Aversa could navigate Flavia’s home with ease. The wooden walls and the wide windows felt less rustic and plain now, and more like a roost. It was obvious in every piece of furniture that this was Flavia’s comfort space.

The East Khan came here to relax, to feel at peace.

Finding her in this space yet gave Aversa trouble, but she was a quick study, and learning the way Flavia’s moods interacted with the spaces she occupied wasn’t half the challenge that impressing Validar had been, once upon a time. So it didn’t take her long to track Flavia down, in one of her craft rooms, hands busy with a block of wood and a very sharp knife. Aversa watched for a long moment, the only sound in the room the knife as it shed curled flakes of wood from the block, and the creak of Flavia’s rocking chair. 

“If,” Aversa said into that silence, after she’d watched Flavia’s hands move smoothly, fingers nimble with the knife, for some time. She lounged against the door frame, hip cocked out and one fist propped against it. “If that festival is so fun, Circe can carry two.” Under the pretense of examining the nails of her other hand, Aversa kept her eyes on Flavia, to see if she were tempted.

Flavia hummed, and Aversa noted the way her gaze flickered from the wood in her hands to Aversa in the door. Still, she hardly reacted, and Aversa crushed the sudden hollow feeling in her gut without remorse. “If not, I will just entertain myself,” she threatened airily, thinking of Flavia’s coat closets.  _ If _ she were desperate, there were things she could do, to feel useful. She’d probably enjoy getting to leave the farm, but she could do other things.

When Flavia sheathed her whittling knife, she turned a big, excited smile Aversa’s way. A grin so wide, so warm, so excited, that Aversa felt a little shaky at the knees until she looked away. “You’ll enjoy this,” Flavia promised, pausing in the doorway, so close Aversa almost thought she would try for a kiss.

“I’m sure I will,” was delivered with a smirk, precisely calculated with years of seductive experience. 

“I say we ready ourselves and meet up at the stables as soon as possible, huh?” Flavia called over her shoulder, falling into a lazy jog after a kickstarting skip. She didn’t have far to go, but such was her excitement. Aversa nodded, and squashed the fragile, injured fluttering of her heart.

The flight to town was long, in Aversa’s mind. Her borrowed coat and scarf insulated her against the cutting drafts that Circe’s wings sent spinning over her, and Flavia behind her. Despite her bulky coat, Aversa thought for sure that she could feel the block of warmth that Flavia was, holding onto her waist and Flavia’s head surely tucked against Aversa’s shoulder. 

A flight that was both long, and when they dismounted, Aversa judged it too short.

They both shook the cold stiffness from their limbs, Flavia’s excitement successfully catching Aversa despite her most skeptical intentions. Even from the outskirts of town, especially from the sky, but even from the ground, they could see the orange glow of the bonfire. “Come on,” Flavia cajoled, even though it wasn’t necessary, gloved fingers catching Aversa’s own. “We’ll miss the dancing.”

Boots kicking up slush from the road, Aversa followed easily, more eager than she was quite comfortable with. But it was nice, to stand at the very edge of the bonfire’s heat, and hold Flavia’s hand. Maybe they stayed that way for so long because Flavia had forgotten? Aversa tried not to think of it, even though she knew this would keep her up once they’d returned to the farm. 

“Well,” Aversa finally said, not breaking the link of their hands, turning to Flavia with projected confidence and flirtatious invitation in the curve of her smile. “Won’t you ask me to dance?” The music was muted by the crackling of wet logs in the fire, but she could still hear the beat, and it was enough to loosen the creeping, choking realization in her chest from around her heart. Her turn to tug on Flavia’s hands, Aversa pulled her close. “Well?”

The answering smile, to Aversa’s eyes, was equally flirtatious. “Just wait, I’m getting there.” Flavia laughed, and it echoed warmly around Aversa’s lungs. “You won’t know the steps,” she warned, but her smile promised it wouldn’t matter. “Let’s see how fast you learn!”

She did not learn quickly.

It was the most aggravating, torturous moment of her life since she’d left Plegia behind. Ever since she’d grown into herself, she’d become accustomed to a certain command over her own body. To be back to stumbling over her own feet, like a gangly teen once more, when her heart fluttered when Flavia’s hands brushed over her waist-- torture. Flavia leaving her at the edge of the bonfire’s light as she went searching for drinks for them both, that was a boon. 

Pouting, as she tried to go over the steps of the folk dance that so vexed her without Flavia’s gaze, Aversa sighed at herself. This was harder than she’d expected, and she kept catching herself being distracted by the way Flavia moved, or the way she adjusted Aversa’s posture. This brief moment of respite was good for her, she reasoned. Still, when Flavia returned, steaming drinks in hand, Aversa couldn’t even try to help the sincere smile that spread across her face.

They parted ways in the hallway after falling into the house together, feet tired from dancing and voices hoarse from being raised against the noise levels, and their lips chapped from the wind. They reached Aversa’s room first, and she hovered outside the door, hoping that Flavia would try to kiss her but terrified of the same thing. When nothing came of her waiting, despite the moment where Aversa thought she saw Flavia think about leaning in for a kiss, she slipped inside her room and fell into her sheets.

Somehow, she woke up early. Disgruntled, and aching from the odd position she’d held in her sleep, Aversa spent a while just squinting in snarly distress at the ceiling. Still, she wasn’t one to lounge about without an audience, so eventually she found herself in the kitchen, contemplating breakfast for two. (And, contemplating a bit more than that.)

She’d never really put any thought to it before, but this morning the strong scent of cedar clinging to her shirt was a strong reminder. Holding the sleeve of her borrowed flannel shirt to her nose, Aversa frowned to herself as she ran through her thoughts.

Flavia made a point of doing the laundry. (Maybe to protest against the points Aversa made of doing...most of the household maintenance?) Made a point of tucking strong-smelling cedar sticks (branches? She wasn’t entirely sure) in the drawers when she put folded clothes away. Trapped the smell of woodsmoke in the clothes, from the drying fire, and that fresh evergreen smell in her shirts.

Not just the shirts, Aversa acknowledged, knowing from experience the way her clothes smelled when she pulled them from the drawers. 

The point being, if she sniffed at a freshly laundered shirt, before she pulled it on, it smelled just like Flavia. A little wood smoke, and a lot like the cedar that littered the drawers for that piney smell. And well, Aversa was woman enough to admit that she’d come to associate that smell, Flavia’s smell, with comfort.

All of Aversa’s clothes smelled that way. Perhaps because they were Flavia’s in truth, even if Aversa was the one enjoying the way the shirts smelled. (Flavia had outfitted her with an entire closet’s worth of winter clothes, to replace the summer wear Aversa had packed in Circe’s bags. Somehow, in her journey north from her home village, she’d forgotten to account for falling temperatures.) Even so, Aversa was coming to realize she was enjoying wearing Flavia’s clothes for entirely new reasons.

Pursing her lips and setting herself to starting breakfast, Aversa did not experience again the butterflies in her stomach from the previous night. No, she did not feel like a giddy child high on first love. She was, in the face of a lonely, cold morning, capable of recognizing that her heart stuttered when Flavia drew close.

(And, when she drew close, and Aversa thought she saw attraction in Flavia’s gaze, her nose registered wood smoke and cedar, and her mouth went dry.)

She didn’t love Flavia, not yet, but Aversa did not make a habit of lying to herself. She knew that it was a possibility, if Flavia acted on the tension that Aversa knew was growing between them. And that possibility was why Aversa had her carefully maintained hands busied with Flavia’s household maintenance. Why Aversa hadn’t flown onwards, when the snow stopped. The roads had been too snowy for horses, but pegasi weren’t nearly so hobbled.

Carefully laying strips of cured meat on the pan, Aversa hissed when a spot of hot oil landed on her wrist. “Can’t be helped.” Aversa acknowledged to the bacon. “I’m as bad as  _ Robby _ .” Tied up in knots around a king’s finger, though Aversa knew Robin wasn’t in love with Chrom. Not the way Aversa was starting to feel for Flavia.

As though summoned by the smell of breakfast, Flavia shuffled into the kitchen. “Mornin’ ‘Versa,” she mumbled, sliding into her customary seat at the kitchen bar. Her hair was a mess, stuck to one side of her face and defying gravity in the back, but Aversa smiled to see the sleepy smile Flavia hid behind her arms when she laid her head down on the countertop.

“Good morning, Khan Flavia,” Aversa responded, smile poorly hidden in her tone. “I trust you slept well?” It was ridiculous to be endeared by a groan of agreement, but she was getting quite soft with Flavia. “Mm. I see.” 

Breakfast was quiet, and Aversa used the time to make a study of the way the morning light broke across Flavia, and haloed her hair. And as she went about her commandeered chores, while Flavia slipped into a coat and out the door to check on the hounds, Aversa considered. 

What were her options? What did she stand to lose, or...what did she stand to gain? She paused, blinking at the shelves in front of her and the pickled vegetables in her hand. She had little to lose, a fair amount to gain, and a wrongfooted oddness that clung to the whole situation. For when had she been the one to pursue another?

Not ever, that she could remember.

Stacking the pickles back on the shelf, mentally noting the number remaining (soon, they’d need to go back to town to stock up on supplies), Aversa sighed gustily. She didn’t truly want to make a move yet. She was...nervous. Her heart fluttered at the thought, no matter how brash or brave she felt normally.

She was being cowardly, she thought derisively to herself. Something she could not stand to be. If nothing changed, she would surely grow unpleasant with increasingly frustrated self-criticisms, but if something did change...and not for the better….No, she couldn’t think like that.

Through sheer will alone, Aversa boxed those doubts up and hid them deep in the pit of her stomach. Went about her day while taking out her frustrations eagerly on snarly, difficult hiccups in the smooth machine of her planned day, letting the satisfaction of a job done impeccably soothe her sense of control lost. 

She might have little control over the direction her heart had taken, but she still could (and did) do a damn fine job at anything else she set her mind to. 

Flavia returned, breathless and smiling, cold air swirling around her feet and nipping gently at Aversa’s senses. “Dogs are fed,” She said, pressing in close to Aversa, looking over her shoulder into the pantry. “Are you done meddling with my kitchen?” A tease, and Flavia’s smile so genuine it touched the corners of her eyes. 

“For now,” Aversa allowed, tempted to lean in and rest her cheek against Flavia’s. She smiled in return, free with that expression in the way she wouldn’t be free with her affection. “We’ll want to make a resupply trip soon,” Aversa insisted, huffing gently as she valiantly resisted her desire to drape herself over Flavia’s shoulders. “You’re running out of essentials.” 

Still closer Flavia drifted, as though she weren’t aware that the inches between them were vanishing. Being this close was increasingly frustrating, it made Aversa long to make a move, for once the person on the longing side of a relationship, paralyzed by her attraction and actually dithering over the should-she’s and the could-she’s. 

Flavia exhaled, and Avera watched the way her lips moved, close enough that surely there wasn’t a proper distance between them. Not that she’d ever cared about  _ propriety _ before. “Are we?” She asked, and though Aversa was taller, she felt cornered by the closeness, counting eyelashes and mesmerized by the fluttering they do before Flavia blinks. Flavia’s fingertips are a gentle warmth on her wrist, though they could be a brand for how utterly aware of the touch Aversa is.

She could have answered in the affirmative, could have hummed or nodded. Instead she leaned forward, like gravity and the tension between them was pulling her lips to Flavia’s, and kissed her. Just briefly, a press of lips and a relieved exhale. She’d done it, just gone and done it. Only to have that exhale stolen by the way Flavia returned the kiss, taking Aversa’s lower lip between her teeth gently. 

“I thought you’d never kiss me,” Flavia admitted, while Aversa sucked in generous breaths. The tension in the air had eased, the breaking point passed, and Aversa was finally finding herself more and more at ease. The look in the khan’s eyes promised she wasn’t done kissing just yet, and Aversa welcomed more kissing.

“I was waiting on you,” Aversa teased, lightly trailing a finger along the back of Flavia’s neck. These casual touches set her stomach aflutter, in a way that left her craving more, not less. Having finally crested that wave of mutual longing, Aversa was willing to ride it all the way to its end, whatever that may be. Wherever that may be. 

“You are cruel.” Flavia whispered, no heat in her voice, just an obvious smile. “You mean to say I could have done this,” and she took a kiss. Then another, and another, until Flavia’s sentence lay forgotten at the beginning.

“I wasn’t the one who was too slow on the uptake,” Aversa sang back, pulling away reluctantly. If she weren’t mistaken, then they could finish this at a more opportune moment. Perhaps when there weren’t lists sitting unfinished in her head. She was never one to shirk her tasks, and Flavia would wait.

Leaning in to nip briefly on Flavia’s lower lip, Aversa finally pushed the khan backwards. “We’ll continue this after dinner.” She promised, narrowing her eyes and curving her lips upward. Another sort of promise. One of her favorite kinds, with all sorts of tempting, delightful outcomes. 

And so it was continued, leaving dishes forgotten on the table. 


	3. Chapter 3

One of the things Aversa liked best about kissing Flavia, about being  _ attended _ by Flavia, was that she felt treasured. Flavia liked to talk, even when Aversa could hardly breathe through the intensity of her pleasure. “You’re wonderful,” she would whisper, kissing and sucking and touches like a hot brand on her skin. “Beautiful,” Flavia would promise. “Smart, beautiful, capable Aversa, how I love you.” 

Even on the coldest of mornings, winter still going strong halfway through the season, Aversa thought of those words and felt warm. In several ways, one that would often drive her to find Flavia and kiss her, and another way that kept a smile on her face. Spring was coming and the thoughts of what she might do continued to vex her, but Flavia was a welcome distraction from all of that. (It was so unlike her to run from reality like this, but Aversa unapologetically found distraction in Flavia’s arms.)

Spring in Regna Ferox was nearly as cold as its winters, subtle enough that it was hard to tell the difference at first. Aversa still liked to stick her cold toes underneath Flavia’s warm thighs on early mornings before rolling out of bed to greet the dawn. (A habit she had found on dark winter nights and still-dark winter mornings. She so hated to be still, but she could put off the urge to work long enough to hear Flavia squeal at the cold.) It was perhaps a rude wake up for the khan, who slept heavy until the mid morning if the opportunity arose, but Aversa was allowed many liberties.

Liberties she loved to exploit, because to do otherwise was to be someone Aversa just wasn’t.

What she had done, was watch the winter turn to spring, the snow melt and the slush slowly be absorbed by the cold ground. Buds on the tree near the barn grew fat and that bright new-growth green until they unfurled to catch the sunlight. Flavia’s hounds, still round and fat looking with their winter coats, chased each other round the fields, and tracked mud back to their kennels. Spring at Flavia’s farm was like a secret she was privy to, a secret Flavia shared with her.

It was nice, in a way Aversa wasn’t used to. The snow gone, so too was her excuse for staying. Staring out at a land slowly taking back the space it had ceded to winter, Aversa wondered if the strengthening sunlight and the mud and the green things meant she would have to leave. (She found, on reflection, that she didn’t really want to. She liked sleeping in Flavia’s bed, liked running the house and organizing what she could get her hands on. She liked the way that Flavia looked at her, and wanted to continue with it.)

Every morning that Aversa began her day early, sticking her cold toes against Flavia’s warm skin, Flavia would catch her by the arm as Aversa tried to leave. “Come back to bed,” Flavia would mumble, voice rough with sleep and eyes lidded, “the farm doesn’t need us yet.” She would push herself up on one arm, head resting on her own shoulder, blankets falling away from a bare chest. A beautiful picture, but Aversa needed to feel needed, needed to feel capable and in control of herself and her environment.

And every morning Aversa would tear herself away from the beautiful woman whose bed she shared, even though every morning it got a little more difficult. The joy of being “disgustingly competent” still drove her out of bed, away from Flavia’s arms, because she was still drawn by her distaste of inaction to the morning duties she had assumed. “Maybe later,” she promised, knowing full well (and knowing that Flavia knew as well) that she wouldn’t be keeping it.

And then she slipped out of their room and to the stables, or the kitchen, or the barn. To do whatever she wanted, so long as it was productive and helpful. And then Flavia would join her, and they would have breakfast together. (The slush began to dry, and Flavia began to look for her armor, which had been buried under a season’s worth of warm flannels and knit scarves.)

“I’ll have to return to the capitol soon.” Flavia said, breaching the silence between them of the matter. “Will you go with me?” Her words were sincere, as was the warmth in her gaze, but Aversa didn’t freeze at the obvious affection there, like she might have midwinter. No, she didn’t freeze, but a sickening feeling like ice took over the pit of her stomach. “The farm will run itself, you don’t have to stay here.” 

“You need a tactician?” Aversa responded cooly, thinking of how she might fit (and how she likely would not) into Feroxi court. She rested her chin on her knuckles, and did not look Flavia in the eye. She was cunning and just as intuitive with tactics as Robin, perhaps better, so it was no wonder that Flavia would wish her talents. And Aversa couldn’t say she disliked the position suddenly offered, because despite wrapping control of Flavia’s farm around her fingers, Aversa still wasn’t entirely sated. She still sometimes wished for the complexities and the bustle of running an army, of helping to run a nation. Flavia’s farm was, in some ways but definitely not in others, a demotion.

What Aversa found uncomfortable, like being drenched in ice water when one wasn’t expecting it, is that she couldn’t even justify the way the offer stung at her. She was mad despite herself, because she’d thought Flavia incapable of running a long game with her. Sleeping with a target, building up the relationship between them that would have Aversa’s newly freed loyalty lie solely with Flavia...it was something Aversa might have done, for Validar. She told herself that her heart was not aching, now that Flavia has made her move. It was a maneuver that she could respect, and surely the worst of the sting was that it worked so well, and Aversa had never thought to doubt it.

A simpleton’s mistake, definitely. More fool her, she thought sourly. Perhaps another facet of the worst of it was that the offer still tempted her, even knowing that Flavia had done…this.

“Well if you need me,” Aversa answered.

“That’s not what I meant,” Flavia refuted, her words overlapping with Aversa’s. Aversa refused to look at her. She wasn’t sure if it was out of fear, out of hurt, or because she couldn’t bear to see calculation there, not after the winter they’d had. She hated cowardice, in herself most of all, but she still couldn’t bear to look. Not yet. She should have known better, after everything in her life, she should have known better.

“If you’d wanted a tactician, and Robby had turned you down, you should have just said so.” Aversa said, dropping her words like little blades. “I was newly unemployed you know, I would have had little reason to tell you ‘no’.” She hummed thoughtfully, like it didn’t matter that her throat was tight and she felt hollow. “Though I must congratulate you on your ploy. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble, not for little old me.” 

“Aversa, that’s not what I meant.” Flavia said again, reaching out to catch Aversa’s arm. If Aversa didn’t know better, she’d say that Flavia sounded hurt. She closed her eyes so that even when Flavia turned to get in front of her, to make eye contact, Aversa wouldn’t see what she was afraid of seeing. Cowardice, but one that she would allow herself to maintain.

Flavia’s hand on her face, did entice her to look. Flavia looked serious, without a hint of smile around her eyes and only lines of concern or...whatever, on her forehead. She frowned, and looked as if she could see through Aversa to her soul, or whatever core of her that there might be to see. “You know that’s not what I meant,” Flavia accused mildly. Turned the gentle touch into a small caress. “You could come with me and do nothing at all, and I would be just as happy.” She promised.

A hesitation, when Flavia’s eyes flicked over Aversa’s face. “You are welcome to stay at the farm,” she said, as if that very statement alone didn’t tip Aversa’s hasty conclusions on their sides. “I just thought you might be bored, if I left you here alone.” And then she smiled, something easy and lazy and oh so familiar. “I might come home and see that you’d expanded my land into something more commercial. Would you grow corn, and sell it at a markup, Aversa?” A gentle tease.

“Of course not,” Aversa replied, after a hefty pause to regain some sort of balance in the conversation. “The local market has no need for  _ corn _ , I would perhaps fill your fields with sheep.” And she wouldn’t do any menial work, but she could see herself running a smooth business, with several farmhands to do the dirty things associated with farm animals. 

Flavia laughed, a warm sound from deep in her chest. She didn’t lean in to kiss Aversa, not with Aversa’s accusations still heavy between them, but she did lay gentle hands on Aversa’s arms, and smile sincerely. “So, will you do me the favor of joining me in the capitol, so I don’t have the opportunity to miss you?” 

Sick feeling in her stomach drying up and leaving behind only a bitter aftertaste, Aversa found it easy to smile back. A bit sharper than she would have yesterday, absolutely, but her answering smile was almost as sincere. “Well, if it means so much to you,” Aversa drawled, as if she was indifferent to the proposal. (A lie, but when has Aversa ever been forthright?)

“Well thank you,” Flavia said, smiling all the while. “I think you’ll like it there,” she continued on, poking again at her eggs with disguised somberness, “There’s more to do than here on the farm, so you shouldn’t be bored.”  _ Or as bored _ , Flavia communicated with a scrunch of her eyes and a there-and-gone lift of her lips. Aversa was certain she’d continue to find ways to be competent even in the capitol, while Flavia was distracted with the duties of her khanship. 

“And if you like, we can both come back in the winter.” 

“Perhaps I will go north without you.” Aversa said with false thoughtfulness, cutting her bacon viciously into pieces. “The spring is new enough, I may grow tired of the capitol and fly wherever the winds take me.” She glanced at Flavia from under her eyelashes, and kept her smile mild and perhaps a touch teasing. 

The tension between them eased slowly, and by the time the plates needed to be washed and put away, it was  _ almost _ like it had never been there. Still, Aversa was glad when they parted ways, Flavia to her outside chores and Aversa to the blankets that needed folding and putting away into storage. The space was good for her, and it let the frantic buzzing of her thoughts slowly settle. Even though the tension had faded, Aversa still felt shaken.

It was not a feeling she had outrun by evening. For the first time, Aversa made her excuses that night, and stayed in the kitchen going over dishes with a soft cloth to make them shine while Flavia readied herself for sleep. She couldn’t help but wonder if she even deserved to share Flavia’s bed, after judging her so harshly. 

Hands still and mind busy, Aversa frowned down at the cloth between her fingers. She needed to come to a decision, on Flavia’s offer and on her continued presence at the farm. Knowing Flavia seemed to hold no ulterior motives, could she stand to be under Flavia’s warm regard? It was one thing to have no confirmation of ulterior motives, it was another to be presented with the bald fact that Flavia seemed to truly just enjoy her company.

It was a truth that frightened her, in all its newness.

So she put the dishcloth away, and moved away from the kitchen to stare out the windows at the night. Nothing could be seen, the sky overcast and even the moon hidden away, but Aversa stared outward anyway. And startled at the cold fingers that gently settled on her shoulder. “Aversa,” Flavia murmured, gently sliding her hand down Aversa’s arm to catch her fingers, to tenderly hold her hand.

“Come to bed,” Flavia requested, the rough pad of her thumb rasping comfortingly across the back of Aversa’s hand. “Please?” She bumped her cheekbone against Aversa’s shoulder, other arm coming around Aversa’s back to rest on her hip. “We can talk more in the morning, okay?” As though she was ready to talk, as though she had even begun to work through the knot of “ _ I should have known _ ” and “ _ I was wrong. _ ”

“Everything will look better in the morning,” Flavia promised, soft and confident. Aversa let herself be coaxed away from the window and back into bed, where Flavia put her chin on Aversa’s shoulder, and cuddled up against Aversa’s back, and they both fell asleep like that. 

The morning dawned, and Aversa cut Flavia off from speaking, as they both fumbled for their shirts, sleep-heavy fingers slow to handle the buttons. “I will go with you to Ferox.” Aversa confirmed again, because it needed to be said clean of the emotions that had so troubled her when the idea had been proposed. “ _ And _ I will even keep my hands free of your Khan business.” 

Flavia’s smile was big, and happy. Perhaps because she understood that this was Aversa’s way of admitting she was going only because she would miss Flavia, or perhaps it only because she liked the way that Flavia looked in just a flannel shirt, with her hair loose and untamed around her shoulders. “So long as you aren’t bored,” Flavia teased, rolling her neck before bending down to wrangle with her socks. 

Dressed for the day, ready to go out and accomplish her chores, Flavia raised up on her toes to buss a kiss against Aversa’s cheek, energy ready to be focused into any number of tasks. “We can begin packing tonight, if it pleases you.” Her touch lingered, even though the rest of Flavia was moving towards the door. “Or we can draw out the time remaining for us here, in any way you like.” 

Aversa hummed, pretending to consider the question. “Why don’t I let you know my decision tonight?” She demurred, though her tone promised she had already made her decision. And she had. She rather liked this farmhouse of Flavia’s, and all the ways that Flavia opened up for her in a bed that had become theirs. 

It took Aversa a few days to become oriented to their new quarters in the capitol. As she’d never had the...pleasure of staying in Regna Ferox before her journey north, she found the place to be a bit of a surprise. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but Khan Basilio greeting Flavia with a friendly headlock had been very, very low on the list. He had rather roughly, but politely, given her his greetings while Flavia made a good show of trying to bruise his kidneys with her fist, and Aversa had drawled a greeting in return. 

“Let go of me, you old boar,” Flavia laughed, digging a knuckle into his spine. Aversa smiled politely when Basilio laughed too, the expression on his face just as easy as Aversa’s was sharp. “Aversa, this oaf is Basilio, though I’m sure you already knew that.” She did, but she liked hearing Flavia more than she liked flaunting her own  _ excellent _ information gathering skills. “He’s a good loser,” she begins, before dodging Basilio’s retaliatory swipe, “just something for you to keep in mind, if you’d like to play him in a game of strategy!”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Basilio said with a smile, deceptively agreeable in a way that clued Aversa in to the understatement. He’d be a good challenge then, if she grew bored. She liked to think she wouldn’t be desperate enough to pull a  _ Khan _ from their work, just to indulge in a game of chess, but she hadn’t planned to become so involved with Flavia, and so she was determined to keep her options open.

The first month Aversa spent in the capitol was a month that dragged by. Flavia’s attention, as devoted as it was, could only be accessed in the evenings, or the very early mornings. The rest of the day Flavia was at work, doing Khan things that she could only assume were very nearly identical to the workload of a king. So Aversa was reduced to lounging prettily in conspicuous spots, napping generously out of sheer boredom. 

She sometimes spent the hour after Flavia reluctantly left staring at a mirror, dramatically trying to discern boredom wrinkles on the masterwork of her face. There were never any to find, because her skincare routine was impeccable, but it burned an hour of empty time that might have otherwise been spent napping. It didn’t occur to her that she might leave Flavia’s quarters freely until Flavia suggested it.

The signs of Aversa’s overwhelming free time were becoming apparent in the way that Flavia’s shoes were organizing themselves, shirts and trousers coordinated to match. “You know you don’t have to stay in here.” Flavia said over dinner, after struggling to find the dishware where she thought she’d last put it, only to be directed to where Aversa had  _ relocated _ it. “You’re no prisoner.”

“Of course,” Aversa bluffed, having thought herself relegated to a form of house arrest. She had, admittedly, been a  _ key _ aide in the war against Ylisse and Ferox. “I had simply thought to first optimise the living space.” It sounded like an excuse to her own ears, but Flavia grinned and leaned across the table to plant a kiss on Aversa’s lips.

“Of course,” Flavia echoed, nipping lightly at Aversa’s lower lip. “Once you’ve mastered dinner, perhaps I can master you?” Aversa laughed at that, surprised and delighted by Flavia’s drive, and Flavia turned the kiss deeper despite the table between them. Half out of her chair, Aversa revelled at the hungry way Flavia aggressively initiated.

It was such a rare treat, and Aversa fully intended to enjoy herself.

Except for the way that the smell of something burned broke them apart, Flavia swearing. “Forgot to turn off the stove,” Flavia muttered, as she tried to save the dinner she’d been heating. “Well shit.” Aversa settled back into her chair with a distinctive pout, planting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, and mentally seconded Flavia’s muttered curse.

_ Indeed _ .

“Sorry,” Flavia excused, putting down a dinner that seemed very well toasted, “you’re a wonderful distraction.” And she reached for Aversa’s hand and held it, smiling gentle. It was a big damn shift from the earlier mood, less desire and more overt fondness, and Aversa had little patience for it.  _ Damn the dinner _ ! She wanted Flavia, not some overcooked meal.

Pulling on Flavia’s hand, Aversa tugged them both away from the table. Leaning over the shorter woman, wrists crossed behind a head of blonde curls, Aversa rested her forehead against Flavia’s. “Let’s do away with dinner entirely,” she cajoled, pressing forward just enough so that her bust rested physically on Flavia. Nibbling lightly on Flavia’s lower lip, exhaling breathily. “Let’s continue where we left off.” 

Flavia responded readily, pushing upwards to capture Aversa’s lips. “That sounds much sweeter than dinner,” she laughs, kissing back fiercely. One of her hands dipped past the band of Aversa’s pants, slipping down and and finding a nice palmful of cheek to hold. “You, are much sweeter than dinner.” 

“Flatterer,” Aversa accused gently, already liking the way that Flavia was guiding their bodies closer together. She hissed gratefully when Flavia’s teeth scraped against her neck, and said pridefully, “Gods, you’re so good with your mouth.” Which made Flavia laugh silently, warm breath against the skin right above her collar, and press little teasing kisses around the fabric, like a necklace of affection. 

With great calculation Aversa slowly backed up, taking Flavia with her, until the countertop pressed up against her lower back. Running her teeth over her lower lip, Aversa let and assisted Flavia pushing her up and settling her on the cold granite. The cold stone reached through her trousers to needle at her skin did not distract her from the way that Flavia edged in between her thighs, hands running up her legs and underneath her shirt to pause at her ribcage. 

Smiling smugly with her success, Aversa gladly conceded ground as Flavia rucked Aversa’s shirt higher and higher, then leaned forward to press more kisses to her abdomen. She’d much prefer that pretty mouth just a bit higher, or just a bit lower, but Aversa would never be able to choose. Even so, she giggled at the way Flavia’s eyelashes tickled against her skin, and squirmed under the way that energy balled between her hips at the thought of Flavia finally choosing to bury her face between Aversa’s thighs.

Hissing, Aversa threaded her fingers into Flavia’s blonde curls, just for a place to put her hands. One of Flavia’s hands inched its way up Aversa’s torso, tickling the under-edge of a breast at her fingertips. “Stop teasing me,” Aversa grumbled amiably, shifting so her hips titted up, searching for a way to ease her mounting arousal. 

Anticipation was so...tantalizing. Oh, it was very nearly her favorite part. 

“Never,” Flavia promised, the hand still wrapped around Aversa’s hip squeezing gently. The hand near Aversa’s breast circled around to her back, and slid down to knead circles just below her lower back. She leaned in close again, having pulled back to speak, and whispered against Aversa’s skin, “You like it too much.”

Eventually, finally, Flavia motioned for Aversa to move, as she wiggled Aversa’s trousers off her hips, pressing kisses to the skin that was revealed inch by inch, until Flavia had left a hickey on the inside of one thigh, and behind one knee. Then again with her last layer, repeating the process much faster before Aversa grew restless and kicked them away.

With her ankles wrapped around Flavia’s middle, Aversa slowly brought Flavia back to her, making a show of pulling her sweater up and off, breasts finally in the light, nipples erect. As Flavia smoothly slipped a hand between Aversa’s thighs, fingertips ghosting along her lower lips, Aversa exhaled breathily, the sound cut short as Flavia’s mouth slid to the side to leave another mark against the sensitive skin. 

Naked on the counter, with Flavia’s fingers circling her clit, and Flavia’s mouth nibbling lightly against whatever skin she could light upon, leaving reddened circles behind as proof of her affections, Aversa returned her hands to Flavia’s head. Though she loved the way Flavia was touching her, the way Flavia was kissing her, marking her, Aversa wanted that mouth lower. Much lower. So she used her hands to apply the lightest pressure, and Flavia understood immediately.

The feeling of Flavia’s breath on her skin there, immediately surged her anticipation upwards. She wriggled against the stone, which had warmed underneath her, and pushed against Flavia’s head. “Haaa,” she vocalized, when Flavia applied her mouth. “Oh,” she gasped, at the way Flavia licked and sucked, using her own hands to grasp at Aversa’s thighs, holding them apart to make even more room for herself.

She released one hand from Flavia’s curls in order to bring it up to knead at her breast as Flavia’s talented mouth continued to bring her to higher and higher levels. She tilted her hips up even further, trying to make the pressure last longer, last deeper. 

“Please,” Aversa gasped, as close to begging as she ever got, abandoning her breast in order to brace herself against the counter, leaning back in order to lift her hips up further. Crashing over the edge, she exhaled shakily, glad for Flavia’s continued ministrations, carrying her gently past the crash until Flavia surfaced, grinning sharply, all self-assured pride. 

“Did I do well?” Flavia asked, blushing herself and leaning forward to look up into Aversa’s face. With a knowing smile, Aversa cupped her hand against Flavia’s cheek, cradling her head tenderly. Sighing happily at Aversa’s attention, pupils blown wide, Flavia leaned into the touch gladly.

“Of course,” Aversa purred. “You have done so magnificently.” It made Flavia’s smile grow wider, and Aversa had counted on that. “Take me to the bedroom, and I will show you  _ just _ how perfectly you’ve done.” 


End file.
